


I Want To Know What Love Is

by PTwritesmore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Lavender Brown, F/F, Fashion & Couture, Femslash, Femslash February, Fluff, Good Theodore Nott, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lavender Brown Lives, Lesbian Pansy Parkinson, POV Pansy Parkinson, Paris (City), background Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger - Freeform, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29647386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTwritesmore/pseuds/PTwritesmore
Summary: Designer Pansy Parkinson only had one love: fashion. But when she runs into an old classmate on her way to Paris Fashion Week, her life gets turned upside down. Can one bubbly witch and the City of Lights change her mind?Written for Silly Love Songs Fest 2021!
Relationships: Lavender Brown/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 10
Collections: Femslash February, Silly Love Songs





	I Want To Know What Love Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Silly_Love_Songs](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Silly_Love_Songs) collection. 



> For canttouchthis - your fic Beautiful is what made me love this ship! Thank you <3 Everyone should read it!
> 
> Thank you to Amarillis39 and lonleyhuntress for betaing!
> 
> Written for Silly Love Songs Fest 2021, based on one of my favorite love songs of all time: Foreigner's I Want To Know What Love Is
> 
> Trigger warning: This fic contains negative self talk stemming from homophobic/bigoted/just plain mean comments from a character's parent.

Pansy Parkinson tapped her vintage heels on the black marble floor of the International Portkey Office, scowling at the young witch behind the desk. The mousy girl visibly gulped before turning her attention to shuffling papers on the desk. Pansy cast a _tempus_ and rolled her eyes at the time. She was already two hours late to meet her team because of the Ministry’s incompetence. 

“How much longer?”

“I’m not sure, Miss Parkinson,” the worker drone said meekly. “It isn’t just us. France is having an issue on their side as well.”

Pansy practically growled at the girl, but took a deep breath inside. “ _Temper, temper,_ ” that horrible voice in her head scolded, her mother’s voice. 

She said nothing to the witch behind the desk, fighting the urge to comment on her robes from several seasons ago. Instead, Pansy sent her most scathing glare before turning on her designer heel to take a walk. Outside of the office others milled about, in various states of frustration. While Pansy was thankful that she wasn’t the only one irritated by the delay, the miserable company did nothing to subside her annoyance. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the Ministry’s news stand and decided to pick up something to read to pass the time. 

As she reached for the latest copy of Witch Weekly, another hand collided with hers. The intrusive hand’s nail polish changed from pink to purple, the subtle magic catching Pansy’s eye. 

“Pardon me,” Pansy said coldly, retracting her hand as though the other witch’s burned her skin. She detested being touched by strangers, her mind usually racing to all the disgusting habits they might have. Her eyes traced up the stranger’s arm, noting this season’s robes designed by one of her friends, before landing on the witch’s face. Pansy nearly did a double take, wondering if she was looking at some sort of goddess posing as a witch. The fashionable navy robe set hugged her curves and her sandy waves spilled out of a loose braid, somehow looking windswept in the still room. Pansy’s bad mood, courtesy of the Ministry, melted away in the warmth of the shorter witch’s brown eyes. 

“Oh, sorry about that, please go ahead,” the witch said at the same time. They looked at each other and smiled. Or rather, the witch smiled and Pansy gave a polite grimace. Pansy felt like the air was sucked out of her lungs all at once at the witch’s easy grin. “No, really, I insist.” The woman had a voice like molasses, slow and sweet. 

“Thank you,” Pansy said as she gingerly took the magazine from the stand. Normally she would’ve walked away after paying, but there was something about this woman that turned her feet to stone. She wanted to make that smile appear again. 

“ _Unnatural_ ” that shrill voice rang out again, echoing in Pansy’s brain. “ _Disgusting_.” She forced herself to ignore the comments, irritated that she let it distract her from what the witch was saying. 

“- and I would normally wait for my subscription to arrive, but I wanted one for the trip,” the witch said as Pansy slid her knuts across the stand’s counter and put her magazine in her charmed handbag. She nodded, unsure how to interact with this talkative stranger. “Though I don’t like the direction they’re moving in. Veering away from fashion and beauty to include more politics and activism.” The witch rolled her brown eyes as she spoke, which Pansy realized caught the harsh lights of the Ministry hallway beautifully. “Not that I am against those things, of course. I just believe that we should be allowed to have space for other interests.” It was like the woman had read her mind and plucked the thoughts from her consciousness. Pansy had unleashed a far more scathing rant about the change, no doubt inspired by one Hermione Granger, which Theo graciously listened to over drinks. 

“I’m Lavender, by the way,” the woman said, extending that manicured hand again. “Lavender Brown.”

“Pansy Parkinson,” she said, shaking the woman’s hand. It was a firm handshake, which she appreciated. A weak handshake was an immediate write-off in Pansy’s mind; it was one of the only lessons from her father that she still carried with her.

“I thought I recognized you!” the girl squealed, that dimpled smile back on her glossy lips. “We were in school together, at Hogwarts.” That sentence normally elicited a sharp panic in Pansy. After the war she left England, telling everyone it was to travel the world because the bloodshed had shown her how short life was. In reality, she fled. She was desperate to escape the pureblood politics, her family’s expectation that she’d marry a pureblood wizard, and, mostly, the reputation she gained in a moment of panic: the witch who suggested they hand over the savior of the wizarding world. Yet, when Lavender Brown said it, Pansy smiled instead of bolting. “I’m not sure if you remember.”

Pansy nodded again, the reminder rocketing her back to that stone castle and the most miserable time in her life. Lavender would sit in the back of the room with one of the twins in their year, gossiping and giggling. Pansy recalled liking her taste in clothing, though she’d never wear any of the brightly colored items herself. But mostly she remembered staring at the girl, trying to figure out her hair and glamour charms. At the time, she thought that Lavender always wore impeccable makeup and intricate hairdos and that was why she felt the need to stare at her. 

That was before she realized that she only liked witches, and not wizards. 

“You work in fashion now, don’t you?” the honey voice asked her, bringing her back to the present. 

“Yes,” Pansy finally found her voice. Typically she was unshakable, her anxieties hidden within a shell aristocratic elegance. Today, it seemed, she’d left that elsewhere. Thankfully, work was a topic that put Pansy at ease. “I run a fashion house for modern witches out of my headquarters in Milan.” She smoothed her black robes as she spoke, hoping they looked as polished as when she left the Nott Manor guest room that morning. 

“Is that where you are going today?”

“No, I am off to Paris. I live in Milan, I just popped back to help a friend pick out some jewelry.” Her best friend, Draco Malfoy, had been a nervous wreck this weekend. It had taken Pansy, Theo Nott, and Blaise Zabini to help him pick the right ring from a muggle jeweler. Draco had forced the clerk to take out every ring in each case, examining them carefully with pursed lips before discarding them. Pansy chuckled as she recalled the clerk’s horrified face when Draco demanded they start over.

“I’m going to Paris too! I’m covering Wizarding Fashion Week for the _Prophet_.” Lavender clapped her hands together in excitement. “Will you be there?”

“Yes,” Pansy relaxed, confident about work. “I’m debuting our newest line, focused on working witches. We have a runway show, as well as a collab party with MM de Clermont.” Pansy was thankful for her mother in that moment; it was her impeccable ability for name dropping that Pansy could attribute the delightful “o” that Lavender’s plump lips made.

“You’re doing a collaboration with MM de Clermont?” Lavender squealed. “She’s my favorite designer!”

“She’s a dear friend,” Pansy said nonchalantly, with a shrug. “I assume you’ll be covering her show?”

“Of course! She is the biggest reason I fought for this assignment. But hold on,” Lavender pulled out a pamphlet that Pansy recognized from the Fashion Week prep materials her team was sent. “Looks like your show is on Wednesday at two in the afternoon,” she looked up at her with genuine excitement. “A prime slot, congratulations. I’ll be there.”

Pansy’s heart did a flip at the thought of seeing the witch again. She was surprised at her reaction, her body rarely able to break through the carefully guarded walls she’d erected. Pansy didn’t usually have romantic notions, especially about a witch she barely knew. But she’d never seen a witch that looked like Lavender Brown. 

“Parkinson?” a voice at the end of the hall called out. “Parkinson, Pansy? We are ready for you.”

“Oh, that’s you then.” Pansy wondered if she was just imagining the sound of disappointment in the witch’s voice. “Well, hopefully that means I will be going soon too. See you,” Lavender said with a small wave. 

As Pansy walked away, she realized how much lighter she felt. “ _Why can’t you just be normal and settle down with a nice wizard?_ ” her mother’s voice asked. “ _You’re just making life more difficult for yourself_.”

She had been raised to be the perfect pureblood society witch. She was meant to marry Draco Malfoy, sit on several charity boards, and pop out at least one heir. 

She tried that route as a teenager. Truly tried, despite her skin crawling as she hung all over Draco, forcing herself to fawn over his every move during their years together. She loved Draco deeply, as a best friend. It took her some time to figure out why she couldn’t muster up anything more than platonic interest in Draco, or any wizard. On some level she should’ve guessed, but how was she to know that other witches didn’t think about girls as they were making out with their boyfriends?

The summer after her sixth year at Hogwarts, she realized that witches were the only ones who caught her eye. Her seventh year forced most of her classmates to self-reflect in one way or another, and, as the Carrows made her torture classmates, Pansy thought about her treatment of others. She recognized then that her desire to lash out at Hermione Granger when she was younger was actually a crush on the swot, embarrassingly enough. Mostly, she thought about the life she wanted to have and knew that no matter who won the war, she couldn’t have that in the magical UK. 

Since moving away from England, Pansy allowed herself the luxury of dalliance with witches from around the world. None of those were great love affairs; she knew enough about herself to know she’d never find love in another person. She wasn’t sure that she even knew what love was, since her parents were no great example. That is why she was so focused on her work. Other witches would come and go, but fashion was forever.

And yet, no one caught her more off guard than Lavender Brown. 

As Pansy walked through the door of the International Portkey Office, another thought hurdled to the front of her mind, this time in her own voice rather than her mother’s. “ _You don’t even know if she likes witches_.” 

Pansy was thankful that she spent the next several days fully booked, with hardly a second to spare. Between the meetings with creative directors, fittings with models, parties, and interviews, she barely had a moment to think. But when Pansy sat in the front rows at friends and competitors’ shows, there was nothing for her mind to do but wander. 

“ _You don’t even know if she likes witches_ ,” echoed off the corners of her mind as witches paraded by her in fantastical robes of various colors. 

“ _Unnatural_ ,” her mother’s voice spat out.

“ _Maybe she likes wizards_.” 

_“Why can’t you just be normal?_ ” She tried to shoo the mental image of her mother sneering away. “ _Even if she does like witches, why would she like you?_ ” Pansy’s heart sunk. 

“ _No one would ever like you_ ,” her own voice replied. 

“ _You’re overthinking this, Pans_ ,” Theo’s voice would chime in and the cycle would start again as stick-thin models walked by. 

The morning of her show, Pansy was able to banish all thoughts of Lavender. Her work was all-consuming, this show critical for the success of her new line. She couldn’t afford to be distracted, not today. But when the show was finally over, the dam broke and her brain flooded with thoughts of the sandy-haired witch. She was drowning in Lavender Brown and she didn’t want to come up for air.

As she walked down the runway to close the show with her perfect pureblood smile pasted on, she scanned the crowd. Finally she caught a glimpse of the woman who’d occupied her mind for the past few days. She was in the press section near the end of the runway, on her feet, clapping and cheering. When they locked eyes, Lavender’s clapping got even more enthusiastic and Pansy could feel warmth rush to her cheeks. 

Pansy returned to the room backstage, surrounded by her giddy team. Her assistant Antonio broke out the champagne and Pansy made a distracted toast, her eyes on the door. When the peppy blonde didn’t immediately appear, Pansy tried to ignore the disappointment rising within her and began delegating tasks to her employees before the after party. 

She took a seat on the couch and began packing up with a flick of her wand. The smell of cinnamon hit her nose and suddenly she was looking up at a smiling Lavender Brown. 

“Hi,” Lavender said, flopping into the seat next to her. “Congratulations! How are you? Feeling good about the show?”

“Hello,” Pansy said stiffly, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands. She grabbed the robes next to her and began examining them. “Yes, I’m thankful it went well.” The two women sat quietly as Pansy tried to figure out what to say next. “Antonio,” she snapped, “champagne for me and my guest.” The wizard scrambled away, no doubt recognizing her tone. 

“So is MM de Clermont here for your show?” Lavender asked, looking around after accepting a flute of bubbles from Antonio. 

Pansy snuck a glance at the woman next to her, spotting a paper and pen in her hand. Suddenly Pansy felt incredibly foolish. Of course the reporter was her for a scoop, not for her. 

“ _No one will be there for you_ ,” her mother’s voice whispered with a bitter laugh, “ _not in the way you want._ ” 

“So you’re here to meet MM? Maybe score an interview?” Pansy asked, gesturing to the tools the other witch held. She was proud of her sterile tone, any hint of bitterness or disappointment masked with a polite smile. Even at Hogwarts she was used to people using her for connections. 

Confusion danced across the beautiful features across from her, before it morphed into clear disappointment. 

“Oh,” Lavender breathed out, deflating. “I suppose I should go try to hunt down some quotes. I am on duty, after all.”

“Did you not want to do that?” Pansy asked, confused. 

“No, I just wanted to come back and say job well done, and,” the witch’s voice trailed off. “Well, I just thought we connected earlier this week,” Lavender paused. “I can get out of your hair, I’m sure you have a lot of things to do today - other shows, afterparties.”

“Oh,” Pansy’s heart was racing. “No, nothing like that,” Pansy lied, scrambling to stop Lavender from leaving. “"I need to talk to some buyers, but when that’s done, I'm free for a drink. If you fancy having one with me, of course.” 

“I’d love that,” Lavender said, back to her sunshine self. “They are stunning,” she added as Pansy’s designs flew past them, Antonio spelling them into their containers from the corner. 

Pansy swallowed the words that nearly poured out of her mouth: “ _not as stunning as you_.” Instead she said, “Thank you, we try to make sure the most glamorous witches wear them during Fashion Week. That lands us in more magazines than anything else my PR team does,” Pansy said, chuckling. “But that was off the record - Blaise would kill me if he heard me say that to a reporter. Bad for business.” 

“Anything we talk about can be off the record,” Lavender said, sliding her notebook back into her purse. “I thought I saw Celestina Warbeck wearing one of your designs at the Jacques show yesterday.”

“Good eye - she’s a family friend, so she’s been supportive since I launched,” she said, touched that Lavender could pick out one of her designs on sight. “Would you consider wearing one tomorrow?” Pansy asked as she stood, picking out her favorite robes in a bright white, which she knew would set off the witch’s tan and make her look like a Greek goddess. 

“Me? I thought you said you asked glamorous witches to wear them.”

“I did.” Pansy gave her a pointed look, feeling a small smile pull at her lips.

“Oh.” The talkative witch was stunned silent, a pink dusting setting over her cheeks. This new reaction made Pansy’s heart flip and she vowed to find more ways to paint that blush on Lavender. “Thank you,” Lavender mumbled, as she tentatively took the robes. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” Pansy said, Lavender’s shyness boosting her confidence. When she’d left the room, Pansy began to hum as she finished packing items away, purposefully ignoring the curious looks from her staff. 

It wasn’t until a few hours later, when she was standing in the middle of her room in her undergarments, that self-doubt niggled its way back in. Pansy’s hotel room was a mess of silk and taffeta, every surface covered in potential outfit choices. 

“Help,” Pansy begged as soon as Theo answered her floo call. 

“No, hello, darling, how are you?” Theo’s face teased from the floo. “He hasn’t done it yet, if that is why you’re calling. Draco will let us know when it happens and we’ll celebrate the engagement whenever you are back in town.”

“No, who cares about that?” Pansy dismissed the gossip with a wave of her hand, ignoring Theo’s confusion. “I need your help! I don’t know what to wear.”

“You’re the fashion designer, not me,” Theo scoffed, though there was amusement in his voice. “What party are you going to? Anyone interesting going to be there?”

“No party,” Pansy replied, rummaging through the outfit options in front of her on the floor. “I’m meeting a friend.”

“A _friend_ ,” Theo echoed hollowly. “You’ve never talked about a _friend_ before. What kind of friend?” Pansy rolled her eyes, hoping to avoid revealing too much; her friends could all be horrible gossips.

“Just a friend! But I have nothing to wear,” Pansy whined as she held up handfuls of clothing. 

“Pans, you have more clothing than half the country,” Theo chuckled. “You also make fun of my outfits whenever I see you, so I don’t know why you’re asking me and not another designer.”

“I just need an opinion on what to wear to look...appealing.” Pansy sighed as Theo’s green-tinged face wiggled his eyebrows.

“So, finally going on a date then?” Theo asked smugly. “And in Paris! Comme c'est romantique!”

“You’re no help,” Pansy huffed. “I’m closing the floo connection now.”

“Hang on, hang on. Do you still have that black number you wore to Zabini’s birthday last year?”

“I packed that, yes.” Pansy had packed most of her closet so she’d have options for every event during Fashion Week. 

“Wear that,” Theo said. “Whoever this _friend_ is will go wild over it. There were some comments that night.” 

“Comments?” Pansy asked drily. 

“Good comments!” She rolled her eyes at his quick reply. “And don’t stress. You’re brilliant - any witch would be able to see that. Oh, sorry, Blaise and Draco are trying to come though. Love you!”

Before she could respond, he was gone. 

At the hotel bar, Pansy tugged at the silk dress, created by a Muggle designer that Pansy often turned to for inspiration. 

“ _You look horrid_ ,” the voice whispered. “ _Ugly pug-faced girl playing dress up_.”

The longer she sat at the bar, the louder the voice became, the more insistent. Pansy cast a _tempus_ , worried she’d been stood up. She sighed and decided to wait another five minutes, the voice’s mocking becoming unbearable the longer she sat alone. 

At that moment, she locked eyes with Lavender across the room. The shorter witch sauntered effortlessly in tall heels, her feminine form dripping in a silky Muggle dress. The tight aqua fabric stretched in the right places and Pansy swore the air in the room became thinner, struggling to breath at the sight of the witch. 

“Hi,” Pansy greeted, soaking in every detail as she sat down. 

“Hi,” Lavender whispered, her eyes slowly moving down Pansy’s body. She wondered if the fashionable witch was just admiring her outfit, or if it was something more. 

The pair spent the next few hours talking about nearly everything; jobs, Hogwarts, friends, and eventually, families.

“I don’t talk to my family often,” she said, debating on her next sentence. “They aren’t supportive of my...rejection of traditional pureblood priorities.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lavender said. “It took my parents some time, but they got used to me dating witches.” Pansy could feel herself relax at the subtle cue that she’d been hoping for, the unspoken confirmation that they were on a date. 

Pansy tried to commit every little moment to memory, the way Lavender stirred her drink three times whenever the server brought a fresh one or the sound of her laugh when Pansy made a sarcastic comment. She didn’t want the night to end, so when Lavender stood up after their bill was paid and breathed, “Come with me!” Pansy didn’t give herself time to question it. 

Pansy followed her companion out of wizarding Paris and realized she might follow this witch anywhere she asked. Once, the idea that she’d be so interested in someone would’ve made her frozen with fear. Now, it made her entire body so light, she felt like she was floating. “ _Though_ ,” Pansy thought, “ _that could just be the three firewhiskeys I consumed at the bar._ ”

“The Eiffel Tower?” Pansy breathed when Lavender stopped short in front of her, the iron monument looming over them. She was familiar with the muggle structure, though she did not spend much time outside of the wizarding section of the city when she visited. On occasions she did venture out, it was usually limited to shopping and clubbing. 

“Hermione Granger, I’m sure you remember her, she told me you can buy a bottle of wine and have a picnic as the lights go on. She’s been dating someone, apparently, but has been quiet about it. He took her to Paris a few weeks ago.” Pansy struggled not to pull a face at the mention of her best friend’s over the top antics as he wooed Hermione. Though she supposed she had no room to judge, given where she was standing. 

“Anyway, she said that this was one of the most romantic things they did,” Lavender said, her gaze lingering on Pansy for just a second longer than they should have. Pansy’s heart quickened. She followed Lavender’s lead, even keeping her mouth shut when the fearless witch approached a sketchy looking peddler and bought Muggle wine from him. 

Lavender found a spot on the lawn, and Pansy, feeling bold, sat close. As their arms touched, Lavender leaned into the brunette, just slightly. Pansy wondered if the other witch could hear her heart thumping. The women passed the bottle back and forth between questions as the green space around them filled up with couples and groups of friends. 

When the Eiffel Tower lit up, the crowd let out a collective gasp of excitement, morphing into sounds of appreciation. The lights twinkled and danced, reminding Pansy of the stars or the twinkle in Lavender’s eyes when she was talking about something she was excited about, like her writing or planning surprise parties for her friends. 

As the show stopped and the dark of night took over, Lavender leaned in and whispered into the shell of Pansy’s ear. “Want to go for a walk along the river?” 

The witch grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers as they strolled. They stopped on a bridge and looked out at the party boats below. 

Pansy snuck a glance at the girl beside her. She was looking out at the river wistfully, her chin resting in her hand as her elbow leaned on the bridge. Pansy thought Lavender looked like something out of an old portrait, captured at just the perfect moment. 

Draco’s warning from earlier that week rang through her head. “When you know, you know, Pans,” he’d said, staring at the ring in his hands, the one he’d spent hours agonizing over. “Love doesn’t have to make sense.” At the time Pansy had rolled her eyes.

Now she scoffed at herself for even thinking of that memory in connection with the witch next to her, one she barely knew. “ _You don’t even know what love is_ ,” that nasty voice, which had been silent since Pansy laid eyes on Lavender that night, finally reared its ugly head. Just as she thought it, Lavender turned slightly and caught her eye. The witch’s eyes dropped to Pansy’s mouth and with a start Pansy realized she wasn’t the only one who wanted this. 

Fueled by liquid courage, Pansy tipped her head down and captured Lavender’s glossy lips. The shorter witch launched herself up on her tiptoes and kissed her back hungrily. She tasted like summer and the cheap Muggle wine they’d been drinking. As Lavender threaded her hands into Pansy’s short hair, the intoxicating smell of cinnamon became overwhelming. Pansy circled the other witch’s waist, pulling her closer. She’d had never experienced a kiss like this before, greedy and raw. There was no doubt in Pansy's mind that Lavender was magic made flesh and blood. 

They broke apart, each smiling shyly at the other. In that moment Pansy Parkinson realized for the first time that she wanted to know what love was. And she wanted Lavender Brown to be the one to show her. 


End file.
